


From The North Sea

by Yulicia



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M, Viking AU, based on jeusus' arranged marriage au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-11-22 21:03:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11388354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yulicia/pseuds/Yulicia
Summary: When it had been arranged that Jarl Hux would send one of his heirs to become the spouse of Kylo Ren he had expected a timid, sweet little thing. Instead was faced with the angriest, orangest man he'd ever seen in his life. Perhaps peace couldn't be secured as easily as he'd originally thought.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So if you follow me on tumblr then you've probably already seen these (because I wrote them like a month ago *sweat*) but I figured they might as well go here too! This is all completely unbeta'd so please be gentle on my typos ;_;. All of this is based on Jeusus' Arranged Marriage AU which you can find on her tumblr under this tag here

“Your Royal Highness, the Jarl’s landing party is here.”

Kylo was up from his bed in a shot, his eyes stinging as he opened them. He rubbed at his eyes, willing to pain to dissipate. The morning light was just beginning to pour through the window, though the winter’s fog clouded its rays. There was some commotion outside of his window, and when he emerged from his bed to look as to why, he immediately remembered.

A few months prior his Mother – the Queen – had arranged for a political marriage between him and an heir of Jarl Hux’s choosing. Kylo, at first, had been furious. How  _dare_  his mother make such a critical decision without his consent. He’d certainly felt like quite the fool the moment his Mother had explained that she had arranged the marriage in order to placate Jarl Hux, the leader of the Northerners who had been ransacking their land for many moons. With this information at hand, plus his mother shushing him with the promise that the heir would be  _sweet,_  they would be  _quiet and doting_ , Kylo had begrudgingly become used to the idea of marrying one of the barbarians that had caused them quite the headache.

He felt the flutter of nervousness trembling in his gut as he dressed. He tried to will it away, knowing his uncertainly would surely be ridiculous once he saw the lovely creature he knew awaited him by the shoreline, but the feeling persisted. Kylo went to the basin by the door and splashed his face with water, the shock of the icy liquid sufficiently shocking him into a slightly calmer state, though his heart still pounded.  

By the time Kylo had made it down to the shoreline his mother was already there. She was deep in conversation with one of the Northerners, one with blond hair and a scar running across his homely face. As Kylo approached the Northerner became silent and his mother turned to him.

“Jarl Hux couldn’t make it, I’m afraid,” said his mother, her voice steady and diplomatic, “Though he has sent an emissary along with his heir.” Leia gestured to the northerner with the scar. “This is Karl Asgar.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Kylo said, bowing his head at the Northerner. He seemed unaffected by the polite gesture, and rather turned to Kylo with a scowl.

“And you,” he replied, their language sounding heavy and clumsy on his tongue. He turned his back to Kylo, calling out something in his language to the people in the boat by the shore that Kylo only caught snippets of.

There was some movement in the boat. Two burly Northerners, both possibly as tall and bulky as Kylo himself was, grabbed at another figure on the boat who was sitting at the end of the small wooden structure. The figure shrugged away their hands and stood, but refused to move any further. One of the Northerners grabbed at him once more, finding purchase on his shoulder. With much protest and squirming from the figure, the two Northerners dragged him from the boat onto land. The two approached with the figure, and stopped to stand with him by Karl Asgar.

“This is Armitage Hux, Jarl Hux’s son,” Karl Asgar said.

Kylo looked at the scowling man. Most of his face was hidden under a heavy grey hood, the cloak covered in soft looking wolf and bear pelts, but Kylo could clearly see the snarl that was etched along his lips.

“Show yourself to your spouse, Armitage,” Karl said, his voice clipped with impatience. The man, Armitage, threw his hood back angrily, and then stood with his arms hugged across his chest, pointedly not looking at Kylo.

Without the hood in the way Kylo could clearly see what this Armitage looked like. His face, though perhaps soft at other times, looked dangerous in its current expression. His eyebrows were dipped low and his chin was scrunched in barely hidden fury. His green eyes glistened with moisture, the look within them both stubborn and terrified. And his hair… his  _hair_. In the morning sun the bright copper strands shone like a barely contained flame, the gold rings within the complicated weaving of braids in the wild mane sparkling like embers. He was clean shaven unlike the two men beside him, though the wildness of his hair certainly made up for the lack of fur on his chin. He was beautiful, but, like with other stunning wild creature, Kylo knew that if he got too close he might lose an appendage he was rather attached to.

 _Was this a joke?_  He thought briefly. Kylo had been promised a sweet, docile spouse. The man before him, trembling with barely contained rage, was certainly the furthest thing from the description. Kylo shared a look with his mother, and he could see the cleverly concealed surprise clear in her eyes too. In the interest of diplomacy, Kylo bit back any remarks he might have had about the man who was to be his spouse and instead reached for the man’s hand, bringing it to his lips. He could feel the effort of muscle Armitage was employing to pull his hand away, but Kylo held on steadfast. The man’s hand was soft under his lips, if rather cold.  

“A pleasure, Armitage,” Kylo said, his voice light and thankfully not betraying the confusion and trepidation he felt about the situation.

Armitage simply stared at him, his scowl deepening even further. He looked both as if he wanted to run far away into the forests and break Kylo’s fingers at the same time.  

His mother’s voice chimed in next to him. “Does he speak?” she asked, looking to Karl Asgar.

Karl Asgar looked at Armitage, his expression one of disgust. “He does, but be thankful he isn’t.”

Armitage said nothing in response, only directed his gaze pointedly at the ground. His hand had returned to its place around his chest, and everything about his stance screamed discomfort. Kylo felt a pang of sympathy rush through him, but he quickly pushed it aside.

Further pleasantries were exchanged between his mother and the Karl before the Karl announced that he would have to return to their ship. The Northerners returned to their small rowing boat, and prepared to set sail.

“Kylo, why don’t you take our guest into the dining hall?” His mother said, her voice soft and friendly. Clearly she too saw the short fuse the angry orange Northerner had attached to him and did not wish to be the one to set it alight.

Kylo nodded, gesturing for Armitage to follow him. To his credit, he did, though he stopped atop the hill to turn back towards the dock. Hearing the footsteps behind him stop, Kylo turned to look as well. The Northerners had begun to sail away from the dock, the boat beginning to disappear into the fog.

Kylo took a quick glance at Armitage. The man’s gaze was glued to the departing boat. He was wide eyed, and his fine, almost transparent lashes were darkened with the beginnings of tears. He was biting his lip roughly, so rough Kylo worried that he would make himself bleed. The man’s hand swiftly came up to wipe hastily at his eyes, his sniffle barely audible. He still looked angry, though that now seemed to be directed inwards, angry at himself rather than anyone else.

In the interest of attempting to make Armitage more comfortable on English shores Kylo waited until Armitage turned back to him once the boat could no longer be seen on the horizon, making no comment on his to-be spouses’ emotional state. He suspected that if he did so, he’d get burned.  


	2. Chapter 2

Kylo, too his credit, had tried to be a gracious host for the man who would become his husband. He had taken the wild creature into his home, placed him at the dining table and served him food, a meal of delicious fruits and cheeses. He had tried to make small talk with him, tried to get to know him before they were to be officially wed.

It appeared, though, that Armitage would be having none of that nonsense. The Northerner had said nothing to him, preferring to pretend as if he didn’t truly exist. His eyes had never met with Kylo’s. He seemed to prefer to keep his gaze turned towards literally anything else. He’d not turned his nose up at the food – nothing so obvious as that – but he had not touched his plate. Armitage seemed determined to resist every kind action Kylo showed towards him. It was becoming quite tiresome.

It was not until Kylo was showing him to his quarters – a temporary room down the hallway from Kylo until they could properly share a one – that Kylo had been able to hear Armitage’s voice. He had tried to place his hand upon Armitage’s forearm, to which the savage had ripped his hand away and snapped  _if you touch me again, I will kill you,_ before disappearing into the room and shutting the heavy oak door with a slam. His voice had been rough, and their language thick on his tongue, much in the same way that Karl Asgard’s had been.

“Kylo!” his mother’s voice called from behind him. He turned towards her voice, seeing a grim expression on her face, “How is he?”

“A beast, just like I said he would be,” Kylo snapped, immediately regretting his tone once his mother shot him a dirty look, “I tried to get him to eat but he refused, and the only words I’ve heard from him have been a threat.”

Leia’s eyebrows shot up at that. “A threat?”

“He said that he could kill me if I touched him again,” Kylo said, feeling a renewed hurt at the words.

“He should not speak to you like that,” Leia all but hissed. She glanced at the door to Armitage’s quarters, the look she gave the oak enough to kill an army.

Kylo shrugged. “Who is to stop him? We can’t exactly send him back to the Jarl, his being here is the only thing stopping the Northerners on our doorstep ransacking this place.”

Leia scoffed. “That’s so like you to immediately jump to the most extreme solution. We may not be able to return him, but we can certainly teach him to live peacefully among us.”

“Who would teach him? He’s beyond that,” Kylo grumbled, “The beast has no place among us.”

Leia’s expression turned smug. “You will teach him. Consider him a lesson in diplomacy, Kylo, he will perhaps turn out to be a better teacher than I have ever been.”

Before Kylo could reply, Leia was already stalking off down the corridor, her heavy dress gathered in her hands. His mouth was left gapping open, not unlike a fish, and he hastily closed it. There was a pool of fury boiling in his gut. Not only had his mother put him in this situation to begin with, she was now telling  _him_  to fix the problem? There was no one alive who could possibly possess the skillset needed to realign the pagan savage to their Christian way – especially one as resistant as he suspected Armitage was going to be. He growled under his breath, stalking into his own quarters.

As he entered, he spotted the little necklace he had draped across his dresser table. The dark piece of rope was simple, and had attached to it a small, simple wooden cross. His mother given it to him in order to present to his spouse, knowing they would likely be a pagan like the Northerners they had interacted with before. He picked up the necklace, fiddling with the cross. Before meeting Armitage he had been strangely excited to present his spouse with his gift, knowing that it would be something from him that the sweet individual would cherish forever. He’d laugh at his preconceived notion if the true reality didn’t frustrate him so much.

He threw the necklace back onto the dresser with a huff. He was not pleased to present Armitage with the gift, suspecting it would likely just meet a horrible end in the hands of the little orange savage. He sighed to himself. As displeasing as he was sure the experience was going to be, he knew he should still give Armitage the necklace. He vowed to do so tomorrow morning, turning into bed for the night.

* * *

As he awoke to the sunlight streaming through his window, he was immediately reminded by the off-putting task he had to perform today. He had hoped that the morning would bring a new sense of confidence, that he would not be so apprehensive to present the gift, but he had been wrong. Instead he felt worse about it, the deadline creeping closer and closer.

He huffed, emerging from underneath the warmth of his duck feather comforter. He dressed slowly, trying to delay the day as much as he could possibly get away with. A wave of dread washed over him as he exited his quarters, the cross in his hand, and made his way down the hallway to Armitage’s quarters. He knocked on the wood, the sound reverberating in the quiet hallway.

After a few thuds of footsteps the door was opened. Armitage looked… even worse than he had yesterday. He had not looked anything but miserable yesterday, but today, he looked exhausted. There were dark purple bags under his eyes, and Kylo suspected he may not have slept last night. He felt a pang of guilt run through him for being able to. His eyes themselves were dull, puffy and bloodshot. His hair was still braided into its wild style, though the colouring was beginning to darken with grease. He looked at Kylo with sheer contempt, waiting for him to speak.

Kylo swallowed, attempting to find his voice. “Would you accompany me on my walk this morning?” he asked, his voice as friendly as he could make it, “I promise I will not touch you.”

Armitage’s scowl did not lighten. He shrugged, the movement heavy.

“I suppose,” he said, his voice much softer, a stark comparison from the raw fury Kylo had been faced with the night previous, “I have nothing else to do.”

Kylo was taken aback for a moment – he’d expected far more resistance. He opened his mouth to make sure, but then clamped it shut quickly, figuring he’d rather not question Armitage’s decision for fear of seeming rude. Rudeness was not was diplomats did.

Armitage disappeared back into his quarters, and for a moment Kylo feared as if he had done something wrong and he was about to have a door in his face again. That thought, however, was quickly banished as Armitage simply returned with his pelted cloak around his shoulders. Kylo smiled politely at him. Armitage did not return it.

Kylo lead Armitage outside, taking him along the garden path by the castle. The gardens were certainly beautiful here. Leia assured their upkeep, making sure that the castle was always surrounded by beautiful blooms of all colours of the rainbow. Kylo was certainly appreciative of it now, watching Armitage’s eyes wander over the flowers, his eyes beginning to brighten. Kylo let Armitage see the garden’s at his own pace, hoping to have the man docile enough to present him with his gift.

The necklace was burning a hole in his pocket, and his heart pounded at the thought of presenting it. He really should have brought some kind of weapon with him out here, just in case the Northerner took particular offense to his offering. Kylo wasn’t sure how strongly Armitage was connected to his pagan ways though from what he knew of his spouse-to-be it certainly wouldn’t be a stretch for Armitage to react violently to it.

“Armitage.”

Armitage turned to look at him with an eyebrow raised.

“I have something to give you,” Kylo said, approaching Armitage slowly. The Northerner backed off slightly, before forcing himself to stand still. Kylo was wary of the glint in Armitage’s eyes, the hand braced underneath his cloak.

Kylo took the cross from his pocket slowly, aware that from the Northerner’s tense stance, Armitage may be expecting a weapon. He held his palm out flat, the necklace held in the centre. He thrust his hand out to Armitage, wordlessly telling the man to take it.

Armitage’s hand came to cautiously take the item from him, his face etched with confusion. He held the cross between his fingers. “This is the symbol of your God, is it not?”  

Kylo nodded. “It is,” he said, deciding to forgo an in depth conversation about the sacrifice of Jesus Christ – that could be explained later.

Armitage’s eyebrows dipped low. “Then why are you giving it to me? I am not of your God.”

Kylo swallowed. “That is something that will have to change.”

A flash of fury passed through Armitage’s eyes. “What?” he hissed, speaking through gritted teeth.

“If you are to be my husband, you will need to leave your Pagan ways behind,” Kylo said, “Convert to Christianity.”

Armitage’s hands clenched, the cross crushed within his fist. He turned away from a moment before turning back, the all familiar snarl returning to his lips.

“I will not,” he said, “I am willing to take on your God, but I will not turn my back on my own.”

An ache began to throb in Kylo’s temples. “I cannot have a Pagan savage as a spouse, you must understand this,” he pleaded.

Armitage eyes widened at the words. “ _Savage,”_ he repeated, his voice incredulous, “Is that truly how you people think of us?”

“Yes. You are wildlings who have invaded our lands, taken our property, killed our men and raped our women. You denounce the teachings of Jesus Christ as nonsense and pray to a group of false gods. What else are we to call you?” Kylo said, his temper finally flaring to a volatile level. He would not stand here any longer and be disobeyed by this foreigner.

“Then I am surprised you wanted me to be your spouse,” Armitage spat, “Since you think so lowly of us.”

Kylo barked a laugh. “I don’t! I don’t want you! We were losing a war, and appeasing your father was the only way to save the lives of my people. You are not a  _want_ , you are a sacrifice I was willing to make.”  

Armitage stood a little straighter. “Then I am glad we in agreement,” he growled, throwing the cross necklace as far as he could into the depths of the garden, “Fuck you. And fuck your God.”

And with that Armitage was gone, storming off in a flurry of animal pelts and copper red hair. Kylo breathed a deep breath, realising only now that his chest was heaving with effort. As soon as Armitage was out of sight, he immediately felt terrible. He shouldn’t have said those things. He was trying to appease the Northerner not drive him away forever. Now not only was the necklace lost, so was any semblance of trust Armitage had for him. His mother had told him to teach him how to be one of them, and he suspected he may have gone about this far too harshly, throwing too much at the Northerner all at once, expecting too much of him too soon. He would have to make amends somehow.

The problem was – how?


	3. Chapter 3

It was four solid days before Kylo gathered enough courage to seek out Armitage.

Kylo was aware that he had said some crass things, that he’d said things he really probably should not have. He’d carried a light layer of guilt with him since, compounded by the lecture he’d gotten from Leia once she’d heard what he’d done (the words ‘bull-headed oaf’ were said on several occasions). He knew it was wrong of him too push too hard on Armitage at this point in their relationship, he’d seen firsthand how off-kilter the Northerner felt so far away from his home. The longing look Armitage had had in his eyes as his people had sailed away still haunted him.  

It had been, as Kylo suspected, unbelievably easy to avoid Armitage for those four days. Not once had Kylo seen the flash of copper braids within the castle, nor around the grounds surrounding it. The man’s quarters lay unopened. Kylo had thought maybe he would find the Northerner back in the gardens, having seen the sparkle in the Northerner’s eyes when they’d been the first time, yet, when he checked each and every single day there was no sight of Armitage, no footprints that may have told him his fiancé had visited.

It was on the fourth day Kylo had been happening past the training rink just to the side of the castle when he’d caught sight of that strange creature he was to wed.

Armitage was deep in combat with Instructor Richardson, the two circling each other like a pair of lions. Neither were equipped with shields, only a wooden training baton in each of their hands. Richardson held his with both hands, while Armitage held his with one, his stance low and crouched.

Kylo watched in awe as Armitage lunged at Richardson, who brought his baton up to block the attack. Richardson blocked Armitage’s attacks thrice before he turned the attack back on the Northerner. Armitage was forced backwards, the weight of the blows enough to press him back a few metres. Richardson continued to advance on him, his full weight behind the blows.

Kylo could see the muscles in Armitage’s arms straining against the force Richardson was coming at him with, but he never the less held steadfast. Kylo had not seen Armitage without his heavy cloak before, though with it removed and a short-sleeved tunic the only thing covering his torso, he could clearly see the constellation of freckles that peppered Armitage’s milky skin. He couldn’t tear his eyes away.

Richardson let up in his attack, allowing for Armitage to regain his footing. In a flash, the Northerner had Richardson on the ground, his legs swept up from under him. Armitage held the baton to his throat in a simulation of a sword. Richardson huffed as he held his hands up in surrender. Kylo blinked at the sight, it had taken barely an instant for Armitage to gain the upper hand. He’d barely seen how Armitage had done it. There was a grin on the Northerner’s face, his eyes wide and alive. Sweat glistened against Armitage’s skin, and his chest heaved with breaths. He stood stunned, letting out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

Armitage turned, catching his eye. The man’s expression’s immediately dropped, a snarl returning to his features. Clearly he still wasn’t too pleased about the fiasco with the cross. He stalked over the fence where his cloak was hanging, and grabbed it in preparation to, Kylo assumed, storm off again.

“Armitage, wait!” Kylo called. The Northerner froze, shooting him a dirty look.

“Come to try to tame this  _savage_  again, have you?” Armitage quipped, the word ‘savage’ hissed murderously.

Kylo sighed in frustration. “Can we speak in private?”

Armitage was silent for a moment, his brows deeply furrowed. “Do I have a choice?”

Kylo bit back a huff. “Of course you have a choice.”

“A lie. But I suppose we can talk,” Armitage said, his arms folded tightly over his chest, the cloak in his arms hugged tightly against him.

Wordlessly, Armitage came to stand next to him. Kylo offered him a diplomatic smile, one that the Northerner did not return. Kylo took them up the hill, behind Richardson’s equipment shed, which Kylo knew no one except the ever paranoid Richardson actually visited. Kylo scanned the area, finding no people for a long while. He turned to look at Armitage, who was thumbing at the fur on his cloak.  

“I want to apologise,” Kylo started, “For what I said last we spoke.”

Armitage raised an eyebrow, but otherwise said nothing. He seemed confused.

“I should not have forced that on you so soon, it was wrong of me to expect you to become acclimatised to our customs so quickly,” Kylo took a breath, “And I apologise for calling you a savage.”

“You’re not the only one here who does,” Armitage replied cryptically.

Kylo’s mind filled with confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve had some time to explore your lands these past days – your people think me strange, uncivilised. Many have pointed out my savagery, sneered at my Gods, stared at my hair,” Armitage confessed, sounding rather defeated, “I don’t blame you for following the ideas of your people.”

“Nevertheless,” Kylo replied, “It was wrong of me to say. You are to be my husband, I should treat you with more respect than I have shown.”

Armitage breathed deeply. “Thank you, I suppose,” he said, “I must apologise for throwing away your gift, too.”

“No matter, I can have another one made.”

Armitage scoffed. “So, you still want me to turn my back on my Gods, then?”

Kylo breathed a heavy sigh. He felt like he was walking on egg-shells again. “To my people, you must appear as a pure Christian. Though,” Kylo said, “I suppose you may practice your paganism in private,” he finished, cringing. What was he  _doing?_

A ghost of a smile passed across Armitage’s lips. Kylo didn’t think he’d seen an expression so soft on the fierce little orange Northerner since he’d met him.

“I have many Gods, I can accommodate yours,” Armitage said, strangely agreeable. Kylo flashed him a genuine smile.

There was a moment of silence, the birds singing in the trees the only sound.

“I saw you’re quite handy with a weapon,” Kylo said.

“All of us are taught to use a weapon from about as soon as we can stand,” Armitage said, “Unless you are unfit to,” he finished, a strange sadness washing over him. Kylo was silent, allowing Armitage to continue at his own pace, “My brother… he’s always been sickly. He never learned.”

“Is your brother…” Kylo trailed off, not waiting to speak the word  _dead_.

Armitage nodded. “Techie is, as far as I’m aware, still alive, yes. Though anything could happen to him while I am here.”

Kylo caught the hint of longing in Armitage’s eyes, the same longing he’d seen at the docks when he’d arrived, the sadness that clouded his vision whenever he talked of home. Kylo wasn’t sure if that miserable look was ever going to not cause a pang of sympathy to shoot through him. He longed to reach out and touch Armitage, to offer him some semblance of comfort, though he was still cautious of Armitage’s aversion to his touch. He liked his fingers unbroken, thank you very much.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Kylo said instead, hoping his words were reassuring in place of a larger action.

Armitage heaved a sigh, “I certainly hope so.”


	4. Chapter 4

The past four months that Armitage had been in Northumbria had been relatively smooth sailing. The Northerner, for the most part, had settled into their society as best as one could expect him too. He still wore his hair in the same, wild style, and his pelted cloak still hung heavy on his shoulders, but the new cross Kylo had commissioned did make a regular appearance now. Kylo wasn’t quite sure if his comfort was pretence, a show put on so that no one bothered him, or genuine and honestly he’d rather live in ignorant bliss. There  _had_  been an incident involving Kylo’s near poisoning via mixed berry pie that had caused quite the rage from Leia, but they preferred to put it behind them.

Kylo had been officially wed to Armitage for almost three months, but he certainly didn’t  _feel_ married. Following the official ceremony and feast their marriage had gone unconsummated, the Northerner’s strict policy of  _‘don’t fucking touch me’_  still very much active. Armitage still mostly kept to himself, his entire being shrouded in a mystery Kylo couldn’t wait to unveil. He was so secretive in his thoughts and his goals, the few facts Kylo knew about his husband as precious and as rare as gold. Kylo  _had_ discovered that Armitage had been present at the battle that Jarl Hux had lost, and it was due to his strategical error that the Northumbrian’s had been able to overpower them. He remembered when Armitage had told him this, in the middle an argument about something or other that was no longer all that important, and he remembered that it had felt akin to pulling teeth. It certainly explained why, despite his prowess in combat, Armitage was sent away as a war prize, rather than kept as one of the Jarl’s warriors.  

Kylo had found himself rather charmed by the foreigner who had become his husband. Armitage was witty, and was unafraid to speak his mind. He was certainly handsome too; in his own strange way. He was a unique beauty, one that Kylo was ever so grateful he got to call his, even if Armitage was only truly his in formality.

The only thing, beyond the ring on his finer, that reminded Kylo he even had a husband was the palette bed in the corner of his quarters that Armitage had insisted on, adamant in the fact that he would not being sleeping in the same bed as Kylo. That had stung, but Kylo had tried not to fret too much.

Even with the condition of a separate sleeping arrangement met, Armitage was not often to be found in the Prince’s quarters. Kylo had no idea where Armitage went all those nights, and he wasn’t exactly game to ask. All he knew is that to see his fiery husband in the warm familiarity of his quarter’s was quite the rarity indeed.

It was strange, then, that on this morning Kylo had awoken to find Armitage actually sitting on his own bed. He sat cross-legged, looking down into his lap, his long braided copper hair shrouding his face from view. The ever-present cloak was wrapped around his shoulders, and he was clutching the opening closed with one hand, his knuckles bone white. That confused Kylo, as he himself felt no chill in the air. It was springtime, and the weather had begun to warm; there was no reason his husband should need to hide himself in the heavy cloak.

“Ah, I see you’ve felt gracious enough to bless me with your presence this morning,” Kylo quipped, a smirk on his face. He propped himself up on his elbows so that he would be able to more clearly see his husband.

Armitage did not reply, seeming not to hear him.

“Armitage?”

At his name, his husband looked up, the gold bands in his hair clinking as he did so. He seemed dazed, as if he’d only just remembered where he was. He seemed distracted, and his eyes were rimmed with red. Armitage, for his standard, didn’t look well.

“Are you ill?” Kylo asked, genuine concern in his voice.

Armitage shook his head. “I’m,” he started, and then stopped, his brows furrowing, “Well enough, I suppose.”

Armitage shifted, breathing deeply. A piece of parchment fell from his lap onto his bed. Armitage picked it up with trembling hands, which he was clearly trying valiantly to keep under control.

“What is that?” Kylo asked curiously, sitting up fully now.

Armitage shot him a scowl, though it was mixed with an expression of pain. “Nothing to concern yourself with,” he snapped, stuffing the paper into his pocket.

Armtiage huffed, pushing himself from his bed and making his way to the door, his entire aura shrouded in gloom.

“Armitage, wait!” Kylo called, scrambling away from his own bed. He went to grab at his husband’s shoulder, before quickly pulling his hand away, remembering his aversion to touch.

Armitage stopped in his tracks, shooting him a look.

“There might be something I can do to help,” Kylo said, “Though you’ll have to tell me what’s wrong.”  

Armitage scoffed. “I doubt you could help.”

“You won’t know unless you tell me,” Kylo said. He breathed a deep sigh. “I’m your husband, Armitage, let me actually be useful to you. Just this once.”

Armitage cringed at the use of  _‘husband’_ and then huffed a defeated sigh. “Fine. It’s my brother.”  

Kylo felt his head dip slightly to the right. “Techie?”

“Yes,” Armitage replied simply. There was a beat of silence, Kylo keeping his mouth shut as he allowed for Armitage to continue at his own pace. “He’s sick.”

“How so?”

“Bed-ridden,” Armitage replied, “Enough to be a threat to his life.”

Kylo felt his heart clench at the news. Armitage always spoke highly of his brother, and Kylo knew that leaving him had been the hardest part for his husband when he was sent away to Northumbria.

“And you’re worried about him?”

Armitage shot him a dirty look. “Of course I am, do I have to spell it out for you?!” He swallowed deeply, before continuing. “I’m worried sick! He might die, and,” he paused, his voice breaking, “and I’ll never be able to see him again!” Armitage took a shaky breath, and then a fierce fury seemed to engulf his very being. “This is your fault!” He shrieked, his finger pointed accusingly at Kylo.

Kylo felt his heart begin to race. He’d seen his husband snarly and angry before, sure, but he’d never seen him quite this furious, practically trembling with the very force of his rage. “Armitage, I’m—“

“Don’t!” Armitage yelled, spittle flying from his mouth, “Don’t you  _dare_ speak! If I hadn’t been sent here to be your  _fucking war prize_ , I wouldn’t be in this situation! I would be home, where I belong, by my brother’s side! I would be amongst my people, and I could wear my hair this way without ridicule, I could walk the streets without the constant sneers I face here! I could worship my own Gods, without having to hide behind,” Armitage tore the cross necklace from his neck, “ _This_  thing!”

Armitage stopped, his chest heaving with angry breaths. He sneered once more at Kylo, who was too stunned to respond, before storming out in a flurry, slamming the door shut behind him.

It took a few moments for Kylo to process what had happened. He hadn’t meant to set off the Northerner’s hair-trigger, he had asked out of genuine concern. Is that was Armitage truly felt? If so, it was a wonder it had taken so long for him to snap. Kylo felt a pang of guilt as his husbands words ran over and over in his mind – some of the things he had said were his fault. He knew it suspicious that Armitage had settled in so easily, and to hear how uncomfortable he truly felt in Northumbria felt like a weight was lifted from Kylo’s shoulders. Of course, it was under unfavourable circumstances, but Armitage was beginning to be honest with him.  

It did pose the question now, however, of what Kylo was to do to help Armitage. He couldn’t let his husband continue to needlessly suffer with worry, forever unknowing whether he would be able to see one of the people he was closest to again, knowing that his brother may very well die an ocean away. He couldn’t bear to see Armitage wallow in sorrow, the very thought of having to see that breaking his heart.

An idea came to him in a flash. He could arrange for Armitage to take a trip back to the Jarl’s kingdom. Surely, if he asked, his mother would allow for it?

Kylo grabbed at his clothes, hastily putting them on and rushing out the door, one thing on his mind.

He had to find Leia.

* * *

“You want me to allow what?”

“I need to send Armitage back to his father, at least for a few days.”

His mother paced in her quarters, moving to lean against her dresser. Her eyebrows were furrowed in thought.

“Why?”

“His brother is very sick.”

Leia cocked an eyebrow. “And?”

Kylo shook his head in disbelief. “What do you mean ‘and?’?”

Leia’s eyes flashed with something dangerous. “Do not take that tone with me, Kylo. What I mean is he very well might be lying.”

“He’s not,” Kylo replied, “If you’d seen the look in his eyes this morning you’d understand.”

Leia still looked sceptical. “He might be playing you, Kylo.”

Kylo huffed in frustration. “He’s  _not!_  What will it take for you to say yes?” Kylo said, panic creeping into his voice, “Please, I’ll do anything, just let him see his brother.”

Leia’s eyes were wide with surprise. “It is this important to you?”

Kylo nodded quickly, absent-mindedly fiddling with the gold bang on his finger.

A sly smirk crept onto his mother’s features. He never liked when she got this look. “You certainly have fallen for the little Northerner, haven’t you?”  

Kylo spluttered, feeling his cheeks warm. “What?”

“I know you, Kylo, you wouldn’t do this for just anyone. I can see it you,” Leia said, her smile widening, “I saw this in a dream.”  

“You saw this is a dream,” Kylo repeated, his voice flat and unimpressed.

“Watch it, young man,” Leia warned, “Yes, I felt that you two would be close. Why do you think I did not kick up a fuss when the Jarl sent his youngest boy, a choice that should have been woefully unfit for you?”

Kylo opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. The only noise he was able to make was an embarrassing squeak.

“I’ll arrange for your husband to be sent on a temporary visit to his father,” Leia said, her face becoming serious once more.

Kylo found he didn’t have the words, so he just muttered a meek but relieved  _thank you_  and saw himself out. He pretended not to hear Leia’s laugher behind him.

* * *

When Leia had said that she would arrange for Armitage to be sent to visit his father he had assumed that he would have had some sort of input into the planning of said trip. It was a rude shock, then, that rather than allowing him to know what was going on he had instead woken up the next morning to a letter from his mother telling him that Armitage had been sent away with a small escort and would be back in three weeks. He had not been able to see Armitage off as he had wished to, and instead he was forced to wallow in his own worry while his husband was away.

The three weeks that Armitage had been gone he had been miserable. While he didn’t see his husband very often anyway, he found the lack of his presence  _at all_  to be soul crushing. In his nightly prayers he had added a wish that Armitage return safely to him, but this did very little to alleviate the weight on his shoulders. He hated not knowing, and he hated his mother for pointing out his own feelings to him.

Since she’d spoken those fated words to him he’d not known peace. He analysed every interaction he’d had with his husband, finding his heart aching at the memories. He had fallen rather hard for Armitage, and he hated knowing that the Northerner very likely did not return the sentiment. He hadn’t planned on getting attached to his spouse, but then Armitage, clever and beautiful  _Armitage_ , had happened.

It was, then, quite the event when he’d heard Armitage was close to his return to Northumbria. He hadn’t been able to sleep much that night, and he’d been up before the sun had been, waiting at the docks.

Despite the springtime, the mornings in Northumbria were still quite brisk; especially this close to the sea. He could smell the salty air, and hear the waves folding softly into the bay. Kylo struggled to keep his eyes open, and occasionally had to force them back open with his fingers to avoid falling asleep.

It wasn’t until the sun was beginning to peak up from behind the horizon that he saw the light of a boat not far off. His heart raced, knowing for sure that had to be Armitage’s boat. They were not expecting anyone else today (he had checked with the dockmaster). He leapt to his feet, but forced himself to remain standing at the end of the pier as to not appear to overeager.

As the boat pulled close to the pier, Kylo could see that there were several people aboard. Most of them he recognised as his own guards, quietly and dutifully plunging the oaks back and forth into the waves to push the boat forward. At the end, he spotted the tell-tale copper of Armitage’s hair, still adorned with glistening gold rings. Beside his husband, there was another figure, one he didn’t recognise. He was wrapped in Armitage’s cloak, the hood pulled up, their face shrouded in darkness.  

The boat made its landing, and all the people aboard filed off one by one. Armitage was last, helping the stranger in his cloak out of the boat, the stranger shaking on his feet. With the stranger safely out of the board, Armitage turned to look towards the end of the pier, right towards Kylo.

Their eyes met, and Kylo shot his husband a friendly smile. An indistinctive expression crossed Armitage’s face, something fierce gleaming in his eyes. The Northerner strode towards him, his steps wide and hurried.

Kylo inched back, worried for a moment that he had somehow managed to piss off Armitage and he was going to make good on some of his earlier threats. Though, as Armitage got closer, he immediately realised this was not the case as he was suddenly very very close, and very much kissing him.

Kylo tensed with shock, worried he might just be hallucinating and that this was just a wonderful dream and he was going to wake up disappointed in his quarters. As a few moments passed, he realised this was not the case, that this was instead wonderfully  _real,_ that those were truly his husband’s soft lips against his own, that the hands on his face were the flesh and blood hands of the man he loved. He found his eyelids fluttering closed, and found himself kissing back, his hands slipping around his husband’s waist. He heard a soft, contented moan from Armitage, the sounding making him weak in the knees.

He cannot conclusively say how long they were locked in embrace, for time did not matter to him any longer. He could have been pressed against his husband for years for all he knew, and yet he never wanted it to end. It felt like he’d been waiting an eternity for this.

Kylo found himself making a small whimper of protest as Armitage pulled away, his head chasing futilely after his husbands intoxicating lips. Armitage smiled at him, the grin unashamed and genuine.

Armitage turned to his side, where the stranger from the boat was standing. “This is my brother, Techie,” Armitage said, his breathing his heavy and uneven. “There were some… complications with the Jarl, and I needed to take Techie away.”

Kylo looked at Techie, who had taken down the hood. He looked young, perhaps ten or so years younger than Armitage. He had the same coloured hair as Armitage, though his was shorter and mostly unbraided save for one small strand by his left eye. His eyes were hazy, the colouring dull and milky. His eyes seemed to wander, though they never truly landed on anything, as if he couldn’t see anything at all.

Kylo coughed, running a hand through his hair. He bowed his head, truly valiantly to remember diplomatic protocol over the screaming of  _Armitage_ in his brain. “A pleasure to meet you.”

Armitage turned to his brother. “Techie, why don’t you go on ahead with the escort? I have something to discuss with my husband.”

 _My husband._  Kylo had to bite back a scream at the use of the word. He’d never thought he’d ever hear Armitage refer to him in such a manner.

Techie nodded, and obeyed his brother. Armitage waited until he was out of earshot before turning back to Armitage.

“I, I want to thank you,” Armitage started, “For allowing me to go see my brother.”

“It was not my decision, it was my mothers,” Kylo replied.

“Of course, but I heard you fought quite valiantly for her to allow me to.”

“You heard?”

Armitage nodded. “She told me that you, quote, ‘would do anything’.”

Kylo felt heat rush to his cheeks. “I did say that.”

There was a beat of silence.

“I had some time to think, during my voyage,” Armitage said, his finger fiddling with his wedding ring.

“Oh?” Kylo replied.

“Turns out you’re not as bad as I thought you were.”

“Thank you?” Kylo replied, his voice taking a high lilt of confusion.

“Turns out you’re more to me that just the man I was forced to marry.”

When Armitage pressed his chastely lips to Kylo’s once more, he was ready for it, and for the first time since his wedding he felt  _married_.

And, oh, how thankful he was for it.


	5. Chapter 5

When Hux awoke it was not to the usual feeling of the slightly scratchy, uncomfortable yet familiar sheets of his palette bed against his bare skin but rather to a silky warmth of a far taller, unfamiliar bed. As he blinked his eyes open and brushed his flyaway hair from where it had been caught in his mouth as he slept he remembered where he was.

This was Kylo’s bed.

The events of yesterday came rushing back to him. He’d made it back to the shores of Northumbria with Techie by his side. He’d kissed Kylo. The thought made him slightly dizzy. He’d  _kissed_ Kylo – something he’d never imagined himself doing. It was silly to let the memory draw his heart into a fluttering pace but, silly or not, his chest clenched at the sensation anyway.

Something had changed during that boat ride. He’d realised something – Kylo was important to him. He’d realised the hot flashes of feeling he got around him were not one of anger, but one of great affection. He _liked_ Kylo. He held back a scoff at that thought – that revelation surely would piss off his father. He knew the Jarl had intended to punish him, to send him to a cruel and uncaring prince who would use his body without thought. The Jarl probably hadn’t intended to give Hux one of the best things to happen to him and that thought made this turn of events all the sweeter.

Ultimately it had been Techie who had made him realise his affections – he doubted he ever would have confronted them on his own. It had been Techie who had asked of the fabled Prince of Northumbria on their journey, explaining that he would like to know something about the man who was Hux’s husband, and it had been Techie who had picked up on the fondness in Hux’s words. Hux had wanted to hate him for it at the time for making him confront something he’d been actively avoiding but now, looking to his side at the sweet sleeping face of his husband, he found any anger he might have had fade away.

It was disgusting how easy the blooming warmth of fondness now filled his chest at the sight. He’d expected to despise Kylo at first and to perhaps have grown to tolerate him in time. He’d never expected this, this fondness, this belonging. He found Northumbria feeling more like home each and every day and he suspected Kylo may have been a part of that. Now, having Techie in Northumbria too, he felt as though new life had been breathed into him. The Jarl’s lands had felt cold, both literally and metaphorically. They were lifeless and Hux hadn’t known what it was like to live in the warmth before now.

As Hux watched the even breaths of the man sleeping soundly beside him he was called to remember that they had not consummated their marriage as they were likely intended to. This, he knew, was largely his fault. Kylo had been an unexpected gentleman, allowing Hux to lead the way in placing boundaries in their relationship. Hux’s heart clenched at the thought that he may have been too liberal with his coldness and had driven Kylo away. Kylo rarely touched him, but Hux could always see the twitches in his fingers as though he desperately wanted to. Hux wanted him too, as well, but his pride often got in the way and he found himself shying away more often than not.

Hux hoped, maybe, now that he had tasted Kylo lips that he may have torn down some of the walls he had put up. He dearly hoped that gesture led to something more… primal. Something more intimate.

Kylo stirred at his side, but did not wake, only shifted slightly before breathing a heavy sigh.

Hux’s thoughts drifted to Techie. Kylo had given him the guest quarters that Hux had slept in while he was in Northumbria but not yet married to Kylo. It was rather fitting that another Hux brother take residence in that room but being so close to Techie and not being able to actually keep an eye on him made him anxious. When he’d been a little boy he and Techie had slept in the same room, so it was strange to wake up in a bed with another person and have that person not be his brother.

“Good morning,” The familiar voice rumbled beside him. Kylo’s eyes were now open, though still squinting slightly against the onslaught of light peering through the window. He was smiling, and his eyes were on Hux.

Kylo’s brows furrowed and he reached out to touch Hux, before quickly drawing back. “You’re frowning. What’s wrong?”

Hux shook his head quickly, forcing his face to relax. “It’s nothing – simply worried about Techie.”

Kylo seemed confused for a moment. “He’s down the hall.”

“I know,” Hux replied quickly.

Kylo yawned, squeezing his eyes shut and stretching. He pulled himself up onto his elbow, propping his head on his hand. “You know,” he started, “When I asked to let you go to see your brother I didn’t expect you to bring him here.”

A moment of panic caused Hux’s heart to skip a beat. “Is he unwelcome?”

Kylo’s eyes widened for a moment. He shook his head quickly. “Of course not! It was simply unexpected.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Does the Jarl know he’s in Northumbria with you?” Kylo asked.

Hux barked a short laugh. “I’d be certainly impressed if he did.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I was only there long enough to find my brother. I never made my presence known to him,” Hux said.

Kylo nearly chocked on his own spit. “What?! You mean you took Techie and ran?”

Hux scoffed. “When you say it like that it makes me sound cowardly.”

“But that’s what you did.”

Hux shrugged. “Essentially.”  

Kylo let his arm fall, flopping heavily back onto his pillow. He mumbled something under his breath. Hux felt his hackles raise at the noise.

“Is there a problem?” Hux snapped.

Kylo brought his temples, rubbing the skin there roughly. “Not necessarily – we’ll just have to see how the Jarl responds.”

Now it was Hux’s turn to be confused. “What are you expecting he’ll do?”

“I’m not sure. Northumbria still holds a truce with your homeland, it would be risky for him to break that bond,” Kylo turned to him, “But I can’t imagine he’ll be pleased.”

Hux shrugged. “Maybe not. I’m finding I don’t particularly care.”

Kylo’s head jerked in agreement, his eyes wandering elsewhere in thought. He ran a hand through his hair, and then down his face. There was a moment of silence between them, a barked laugh from Kylo breaking the silence.

“You know what I do know, though?” Kylo said.

Hux raised an eyebrow. “Do enlighten me.”

“Leia’s not going to be happy with this.”

* * *

Kylo was right - Leia’s wasn’t pleased – but she was going through some significant effort not to show that. Her hands were clenched tightly behind her back and her lips were draw together thinly. Her tiny frame seemed to be radiating barely retained fury.

“This complicates things,” She said, her voice surprisingly level, “The Jarl may want Techie back.”

Hus scoffed. “I doubt that, he never seemed to want him either.”

Leia turned to him. “Nevertheless,” she said, beginning to pace, “Techie is still his heir – an heir you’ve stolen from him. He could seek revenge.”

“Would he break the truce over this, though?” Kylo asked from his place by Hux’s side.

Leia hummed. “I can’t say for sure, I’m not intimately familiar with the man.”

Leia continued her pacing, the bounce of her walk causing her crown to tip on her head. She righted the metal with a practiced tug. Seeing Leia wear her crown was still strange to Hux. It had not been something he’d seen even the highest members of society in his homeland do, and thus far he’d only seen Kylo don his once – during their wedding. It was such an obvious way to display their status that it still occasionally gave Hux pause to see it.

“There is an envoy from Mercia expected within the next few days,” Leia said, “If the Jarl chooses to, he may strike then.”

“What?” Hux said, “What does Mercia have anything to do with my father?”

Leia stopped, her eyebrows rising somewhat before lowering in recognition. “The Jarl struck a bargain with Mercia for some of their land. It’s the strongest tie he has this side of the sea. If he was ever to be in Angles, it’d be there.”

Kylo grunted in displeasure. “Then would it not be wise to call off the audience with Mercia?”

Leia shot Kylo a pointed look, her eyebrows dipped and her mouth pulled into a tight line. “Mercia is a great force, Kylo, it would do you some good to learn that,” she snapped, “I cannot cancel the envoy because Northumbria needs Mercia’s support should we require it. I would not squander that for a mistake that is ultimately yours.”

Kylo huffed, pointedly looking at the floor and not at Leia whose withering gaze was still looked onto her son. “Then what should we do?”

Leia paused for a moment, her brow crinkled slightly in thought. “We go ahead with the envoy,” she started, “And simply keep an eye out for any sign of the Jarl during the meeting.”

Kylo’s eyebrows rose. “That’s all?”

Leia shrugged, the movement quick and frustrated. “It’s the only thing we can do.”  

Hux felt a pang of guilt run through him. He hadn’t anticipated taking Techie being this complicated. He, strangely, hadn’t really thought at all. Usually he thought through every possible consequence and checked through every outcome before he made his decisions but when it had come to Techie he had just… forgotten. All future pathways had become closed to him the moment he saw his little brother trapped under the punishing rule of his father. He felt some guilt as his rashness, but that guilt was directed not at taking Techie, but rather at the inconvenience it was now causing the Organa’s. He would steal Techie away from his father again and again, no matter what the outcome of it was.

“When is the envoy from Mercia intended to arrive?” Hux asked.

Leia’s eyes flicked to him, subtle surprise alight within them – as if she’d forgotten Hux was there. “Some time tomorrow evening,” she replied.

“Well,” Kylo huffed, already on his way out the door, “We’d better start waiting.”

* * *

And wait they did – every second of it was completely and utter agony. It felt like torture, each minute passing like another fingernail pulled from his hands, each hour like a toenail from his feet.

Hux could see that the waiting was not only getting to him, but to Kylo as well. He was jittery, flinching at every sudden movement. When Hux had quietly entered their quarters that night without alerting his husband of his presence first Kylo had practically leapt onto the dresser he’d jolted so hard.

The one saving grace of the day was that he’d able to see Techie again. His brother looked as sickly as he always did - and seemed a little uncomfortable in his new surroundings – but he ultimately looked happier from being freed of the overbearing weight of the Jarl. Hux could certainly relate. He hadn’t realised how stifling living under his father had been, just how heavy the expectations of greatness and the reality of disappointment had weighed on his shoulders under they had finally been lifted. His marriage to Kylo – which had originally intended to be a curse – had turned out to be a blessing.

He had spent hours talking with Techie about home and their father, sharing silly little jokes like they used to. Techie even told him of the strapping blonde boy who had showed him to the kitchens earlier that morning, sounding rather star struck as he did so. Hux wasn’t quite sure who he meant – there were several blonde boys who worked to upkeep the castle – but he could certainly take a guess.

However, the joy of seeing Techie had been swept away swiftly but the crushing realism of the next day.

It was not with pleasure that Hux watched the sun rise that morning but with a vague sense of dread hovering high above him glowing hotter than the sun. Kylo seemed to be feeling much the same, giving short, clipped responses to questions. Hux ached to reach out and comfort him, but decided to forgo that. Today didn’t seem the day to start testing boundaries.  

By the time the two had dressed and made their way into the main hall Leia was already there, sitting atop her throne at the back of the room dressed in her finest navy blue gown, her crown polished and sparkling atop her braided hair. Leia cast a rather intimidating shadow, and it had been her that Hux had first learned to fear here in Northumbria. It was no wonder this woman ruled such a powerful kingdom essentially on her own.

“Kylo,” Leia called, beckoning her son over. Hux trailed behind, assuming the call was for him too – he seemed to be expected to go wherever his husband went.        

“Good morning, mother,” Kylo said, coming to stand at her side. He, like his mother, wore his crown though his was smaller, much more fitting of the title of a prince. It was the first time Hux had seen him with the metal adoring his hair and he was finding, strangely, that he quite liked it. The stark gold laying against his black waves struck a very pleasing image. The gold, though Hux would be pressed to admit it, brought out creamy brown of his eyes. And not to mention the powerful image it cast, the eccentric show immediately calling to any passers-by that he, alone, was the most important person in any given room.  

Leia shot him a pointed and somewhat disappointed look. “Don’t give me that, you know it isn’t,” she grumbled, “They’re expected to arrive soon.”

As if on cue, the doors to the main hall then opened, a small group of finely dressed individuals striding in. Hux didn’t recognise any of them, the three men completely foreign to him. Two had long hair, not dissimilar to Kylo, but one had a hooded cloak covering his features, completely hiding both his hair and his face. His father didn’t seem to be present but Hux felt his hackles rise none the less.

The small group strode down the hallway, their boots clicking against the tiles, the sound echoing throughout the high walls of the room. They came to a stop at the base of the throne and a dark haired man – who Hux assumed was their leader – stepped forward and bowed.

“Who are you?” Leia asked, her voice crisp and powerful.  

“I am Withred of Mercia, emissary for his majesty Ceolwulf, King of Mercia,” the man announced, his voice booming, the sound carrying clearly to where they stood by Leia’s throne.

“And why have you come?” Leia asked, “King Ceolwulf did not make me privy to the intention of your visit.”

Withred looked down at his boots quickly before his eyes darted back to Leia’s. He inhaled sharply before he spoke. “Mercia faces a great threat from across the sea. His majesty King Ceolwulf has heard of your great battles against Jarl Hux and hopped that you would offer your aid.”

Leia hummed, watching Withred as he paced side to side. Hux could practically see the cogs turning in her mind as she squinted at Mercia’s emissary. “My aid in return for what? Surely King Ceolwulf has sent you with something to bargain with?”

Hux looked from Leia back to the emissaries, seeing that the two who had been behind Withred had wandered off elsewhere. Hux’s brows furrowed. He’d only looked away for a second. How had they managed to disappear so quickly? Hux’s eyes flicked back to Leia, who didn’t seem to have noticed anything either, and then to Kylo, who seemed as oblivious as his mother, both of their eyes intensely locked to Withred.

Hux could feel the hair of the back of his neck rise. Something wasn’t right. Hux turned to tell Kylo this, but before he could his attention was once more caught by the high voice of Withred.

“Your son’s life,” he said, a sly smile creeping across his features. Hux saw Leia’s eyes widen before they both watched helplessly as the two men from before drag Kylo down from the near the throne to stand by Withred. Kylo squirmed and protested as they did so but then stopped suddenly as something was pressed against his tunic.  

There was a knife to Kylo’s stomach, the metal gleaming viciously dangerously. The man who had been hooded before was no longer and Hux recognised his stark blonde hair and scarred face immediately as Karl Asgar, the man who had personally brought Hux across the icy seas to drop him like a babe at the doorstep of Northumbria.

Hux could see the tenseness in Kylo’s shoulders, could see the quickened rise and fall of his chest. Hux’s heart was in his throat and his hand was curled around the pocket dagger he kept in the back of his breeches. He was never more thankful for the press of sharp metal against his back than he was now. He had to physically force himself not to move – any sudden movement he made might cause that knife by Kylo’s stomach to become deadly.

Leia, to her credit, seemed to be the very picture of calmness. She still sat in her throne, her stance as regal as it always was. Hux could see fear in her eyes from where he stood, but her act was truly admirable.

“A clever plan, I must give you credit,” Leia said, her voice barely wavering, “But if you think threatening me is going to sway me to help you you’d be sorely mistaken.”  

Withred seemed taken aback for a moment before quickly recovering. “Asgar, kill him.”

Asgar looked up, his eyes meeting Hux’s. “Your father knows it was you who took Techie from him,” he said, “Now he gets to take something from you.”

In that moment it seemed as though time slowed down, every sound and sight louder and clearer. Hux watched in horror as Asgar drove the knife into Kylo’s stomach causing him to cry out and double over, crumpling to the floor as Asgar let go of him. Blood coated Asgar knife as well as his hands, and sticky redness began to stain the floor below Kylo.

Hux saw red, drawing his own knife and leaping forward to meet Asgar, a feral noise tearing itself from his throat. Asgar’s eyes widened with shock as the flurry of orange descended upon him. Hux led with his knife, slashing at Asgar in quick strikes, many of which missed in his frenzy. Asgar ducked and weaved through the strikes, only faltering as Hux caught the side of his arm with his blade.

He cried out in pain, clutching at his spouting wound. He left his stance wide open and allowed for Hux to drive his knife directly into his shoulder. The flesh gave out below the sharpness of the blade, the dagger tearing through the muscle in his shoulder. Asgar grabbed at Hux’s arm, trapping him against him, his teeth gritted through the pain.

“This was supposed to break you!” Asgar spat in their native tongue, spittle flicking onto Hux’s face, “You should be rotting away in a foreigner’s keep as a war trophy, not allowed to stand beside him as an equal! You should have been nothing but a warm body to keep him satisfied!”

Hux struggled against Asgar’s vice grip, attempting to regain control over his arms, grunting as he did so.

“Why would he let you out of his sights?” Asgar continued onwards, seeming as though he was now talking not to Hux, but to himself, “How could he let you leave long enough to steal from us?” Asgar’s attention turned back to Hux, their eyes connecting in a fiery stare.  “Yes! We know it was you! Who else could it have been!? You should be dead!” Asgar shrieked, tightening his hold on Hux’s arms, digging his nails forcefully into the skin.

The words that were intended to throw him off missed their mark, the Karl’s words distant over the rush of blood in his ears and his sudden overwhelming desire for revenge. Hux quickly realised he wasn’t going to win out in a battle of brute strength and instead bit down into the meat of Asgar’s forearm. Hux’s mouth filled with blood, his teeth piercing through skin. Asgar shrieked and let go, pushing Hux away.

Hux stumbled but quickly regained his footing, advancing on Asgar once more whose strength was beginning to wane, his breath coming out in short, pained puffs. The two of them were both covered in blood, though Asgar significantly more. Hux faintly heard Leia yelling something into the hallway, but he wasn’t listening. Whatever noise that wasn’t coming from Asgar might as well have been coming from an ocean away.

Asgar attempted to block Hux’s next attack but his injured shoulder caused him arm to fail to raise and allowed for Hux to drive his knife into his heart. Asgar inhaled quickly and sharply, his eyes wide. He exhaled as Hux withdrew his weapon from inside him, his breath sounding as though he was a balloon being deflated. Asgar crumpled to the floor with a thud, the life quickly fading from his eyes, a low gurgling the last sound he would ever make.

Hux watched Asgar fall, looking up when he saw his last breathe leave him. Hux turned in a hurry, his eyes darting around searching for the Withred and his companion. He heard Leia calling out again.

“They’re gone,” she said, “They fled during the fight.”

Hux didn’t look behind him, setting his eyes on the open doorway. He began to make his way out before Leia’s voice stopped him.

“I’ve sent the guards after them. They’re likely dead already.”

Hux stopped in his tracks, his heart still beating like a stampede in his chest. Adrenaline soared through his veins, and he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. He turned around, already knowing he wasn’t going to like the sight behind him.

Leia’s was bent over Kylo, her hands pressing a cloth to Kylo’s wound. Kylo’s eyes were closed, and he seemed to be completely unconscious, lost to the world. Another woman was beside them dressed in a plain brown dress, her hands on top of Leia’s. Hux felt himself gulp, stumbling towards Kylo and dropping to his knees beside him.

Kylo looked pale, paler than he’d ever seen the prince before. He seemed almost grey. There was a sheen of sweat on his brow, and his features were scrunched in pain, his breath shaking. Hux found his hand reaching out to press against Kylo’s cheek. Hux ran a thumb across his cheekbone, the skin there cold and clammy. Hux’s breath hitched.

“We need to bring him to a bed before I can work,” the woman in the brown dress said. She looked to Leia, who nodded.

“There is one nearby. Armitage,” Leia said, turning to Hux and catching his attention. His eyes were wild and red rimmed. He looked at her, his eyes seeming far away. “I need you to help me carry him.”

Hux nodded, his eyes flicking back to Kylo. He felt sick looking at the paleness of his husband’s skin and even sicker looking at the dark red staining the front of his tunic. His chest ached, and his eyes stung. This was his fault. If he’d never taken Techie away this wouldn’t have happened. He should have known that the Jarl himself wouldn’t risk his life for something as petty as a stolen boy. It’s his fault Kylo was hurt, his fault Kylo may very well die.

The thought of Kylo dying brought the stinging in his eyes to the forefront of his mind. He didn’t want Kylo to die. He might have, a long, long time ago, when he’d first arrived in Northumbria but now - now he found himself attached. There was so much they hadn’t done, so much they hadn’t shared. It was too early.  

He felt helpless as the three of them placed Kylo onto the bed in the guest quarters by the main hall. All he could do was watch the hurried pace of the doctor as she examined Kylo’s wound. Kylo seemed to regain consciousness for a moment, and he groaned in pain, the sound shooting a dagger through Hux’s heart.

Hux felt Leia’s hand on his shoulder. She was looking at him with weary eyes, a streak of blood across her cheek. She looked about as bad as Hux felt. “You shouldn’t see this,” she said with a sigh, “And neither should I. We should go.”

Hux nodded, feeling as though he was no longer in control of his own body. Leia kept her hand on his shoulder, leading the two of them out of the room. She closed the door behind her, and leaned against it.

“You Christian’s,” Hux started, his voice low and his tongue heavy in his mouth, “Your heaven. What is it like?”

Leia gave him a worried look, her brows deeply furrowed. “Don’t think like that. I’m sure he’ll be fine. We Organa’s are a tough breed.” she said, sucking in a heavy breath, “He has to be.”  

Hux chose to believe her. He had to.

* * *

_Asgar is dead. I killed him. I tore him apart._

_Your mother is fine. I know you’d worry._

A pause. A mumbled prayer.

_I wish you were too._

_Please. Please wake up._

* * *

When Kylo awoke it was to a fiery pain in his side. He instructively reached towards the source of the pain but found that moving only made his agony excruciatingly worse. There was a sting and a horrid odour coming from his wound that he guessed came from whatever poultice the doctor had soaked the bandages around his middle in before wrapping. He groaned involuntarily, finding his voice gravely from disuse. His throat felt scratchy and his head was pounding even with his eyes still closed.

He knew why he was here. Asgar had gotten that last word in – that much was obvious. He desperately wished that he’d been stronger against Asgar but his roguish ways had caught them off guard. It was shameful, honestly, that he hadn’t been able to defend himself.

He breathed a deep breath, opening his eyes. They felt sticky and sore in the way they did when he had not drunk enough water the day before. His vision was blurred, but he quickly blinked it away.

Kylo found himself looking up at a ceiling the titling beginning to crack with age. It was familiar and yet strange. He’d been here before, but this was not his quarters. It was dark - it must be close to nightfall. How long had he been laying here? From the way he felt, he suspected somewhere close to a lifetime. He looked down and was taken aback by the sight he found.

There, lying against the side of his bed, folded half into a chair and half onto the mattress, was Armitage, fast asleep. His bright, distinctive hair lay flat against the sheets spilling out like watered ink on thin parchment. He snored, tiny little rumbles escaping him with every breath. He looked both serene and, due to his scrunched position, absolutely uncomfortable.

Kylo reached out a hand, biting through the pain that flared in his side, and pressed his hand against Armitage’s nose, running his finger along the bridge of his nose lightly - but not so lightly as to tickle him and cause him to jerk awake. He traced the plane of his nose back and forth, pressing the touch deep into his memory. He’d never been allowed to do this before.

Armitage slept on, completely oblivious to the tracing of Kylo’s hand against his warm skin. Kylo suspected the heavy purple bags hidden underneath his feathery eyelashes may have something to do with the deepness of Armitage’s sleep. He found his mind wandering back to wondering how long he’d been asleep for. It really must have been for some time.

Kylo let his hand wander lower, running the pad of his thumb over the cupid’s bow of Hux’s lips. The skin there was soft and warmer than his nose had been. Kylo loved his lips. He found himself wandering back to the thought of perhaps being able to taste them once again just as he had done on the docks.  He didn’t know if Armitage would allow him too.

Armitage stirred with a huff, his eye’s fluttering open. He looked up blearily, still captured in the remnants of sleep. Kylo caught his eye and he flashed him a wide smile.

“You’re awake,” Armitage breathed, speaking as though he didn’t truly believe it. He brought his hand up to touch Kylo’s thigh hidden under the sheet, pressing his hand down as if to check if he was real. “You’re awake.”

Kylo nodded. “I’m awake,” he agreed, somewhat at a loss for what to say.

“Leia said you would wake up but I,” Armitage looked away, his hair falling into his face, “I had my doubts.”

Kylo snorted. “Of course I would wake up,” he said flippantly, “I’ve got someone waiting for me.”

Though Kylo couldn’t see Armitage’s face for all of the hair curtaining it, he could see the tips of his ears beginning to turn pink. “Shut your mouth, Prince Kylo.”

Kylo’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, calling me Prince now?” Kylo laughed, “I think I rather like it.”

Armitage looked at him pointedly and scoffed. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Right,” Kylo smiled, “Save it for near death experiences only.”

Armitage’s face fell at that. He paused for a moment before speaking. “You nearly died,” he said, his voice low and whispered as though he was in a church confessing his sins, “I nearly got you killed.”

Kylo shrugged. “It’s not the first time I’ve been stabbed.”

Armitage’s eyes widened as though he wasn’t expecting that answer. He barked a laugh, the sound quick and almost hysterical. “You don’t blame me?”

“I probably should,” Kylo said. He reached pulled his hand from under the sheet to search for Armitage’s hand, clasping their fingers together. “But I’m finding it rather difficult to blame you entirely.”

“That is perhaps more than I deserve,” Armitage mumbled. His eyes gleamed in the soft moonlight pressing through the window.

Kylo ran his thumb along the side of Armitage’s hand. “Nonsense. You deserve the world,” he said, “And I hear you have a lovely Prince around willing to give you just that.”

Armitage raised an eyebrow at him, swatting at his thigh lightly in jest. “Careful Kylo,” He said, smiling, “I might take you up on that promise.”

Kylo smiled back, finding the grin on Armitage’s face rather contagious. There was a beat of silence between them, the only sounds the sounds of their soft breaths and the chirping of night dwelling birds outside.

“I hear a certain Jarl Hux broke his truce with one of the strongest nations in the Angles. That’d leave him vulnerable,” Kylo thought aloud, purposefully being cheeky, “Why don’t we start our conquest there?”

Something dangerous flashed in Armitage’s eyes. “It would be my pleasure.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, this chapter is a Techienician fill-in so if that's not your thing feel free to skip if you want!

If there is one thing that Techie had learned since his arrival in Northumbria is that the flooring right outside the door to his quarters creaked terribly whenever pressure was applied to it. He’d become familiar with the groan of the wood and had learned to use to anticipate guests. It became particularly useful whenever his brother decided to visit – Armitage never was very good at knocking.

That, of course, wasn’t the only thing Techie had learned since his arrival. He’d learned much such as that the Northumbrian’s were strange, conservative people, and that his brother’s voice took a particular softness when he spoke to Prince Kylo.

It was strange to see his brother so soft spoken to anyone that wasn’t Techie himself. Armitage had been all harsh grunts and yells towards their father and his iconic shrieking on the battlefield was a tale sung about by returning warriors after a few too many cups of warm ale. He hesitated to say that his brother had been won over by the mighty Prince of Northumbria – his brother would never let himself be won over by  _anyone_  – but he had no other way to describe how his brother had changed. Techie liked the change. Armitage had always seemed to sour and unhappy back home and it was so wonderful to see him finally lighten up.  

A creak from outside his quarters startled Techie from his thoughts. He recognised the particular noise of the wood, though he knew the individual outside of his quarters was not his brother. Armitage’s footsteps were softer than this mans.

There was a quick knock, three beats against the heavy wooden door.

“It’s open,” he said, dearly hoping his voice carried. He’d always had a problem with the quiet volume of his voice. Their father had berated him for it on many occasions.

There was a clank as the latch on the door was opened and the door swung open.

“Prince Matthew,” Techie said, plastering a wide smile across his features, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Matt laughed quickly, the noise jittery and nervous. “Just ‘Matt’, Techie.”

“Oh,” Techie said, “Of course. I apologise.”

“Yes, well,” Matt started before pausing, looking at his hands. There was something in them - something Techie couldn’t quite make out. “It’s almost noon, I’ve brought you lunch.”

He knew he could smell something delightful. There was a certain sweetness in the air, one that came with the presence of fresh fruits. Techie’s mouth watered at the thought.

“That’s very thoughtful of you, thank you,” Techie said, “Would you like to share with me?”

Matt faltered for a moment, the comment seeming to catch him off guard. “Would you like me to?”

Techie smiled, the gesture warm and intentionally friendly, “Of course,” he said, “A meal is always improved by company.”

Techie moved back on his bed, leaning against the wooden headrest there, making a place for Matt to sit. Matt moved with a slight inelegance towards the bed and held out the tray of fruit for Techie to take. Techie held out his arms, letting Matt place the tray onto them. It was heavy, clearly quite laden with goods.

He held back a laugh. It was quite clear Matt was trying to impress him, and had been trying to do so for days. He didn’t mind – in fact he lavished the attention. He’d never had someone so eager to spend time with him that wasn’t his brother. Being friends with the Jarl’s sickly son was never something that appealed to anyone back home. The thought struck a dull pang in his gut - a ghost of past pains - but he pushed it aside in favour of watching Matt sit cross legged on the bed and pick up something from the tray.

Techie reached out, feeling his fingers brush against something lightly fuzzy. He grasped at it, the flesh of the fruit soft in his hand. He brought the fruit to his lips, biting through the sweet flesh. Juice ran down his hand as he did so, the fruit dripping nectar along his skin. He quickly dipped to lick at the run-away juices before they could travel too far down his arm. He did notice Matt staring as he did so, but pretended not to.

“This is good,” Techie commented, “What is it?”

Matt swallowed his bite and cleared his throat before answering. “A plum - they’re quite popular.”

“I’d imagine so,” Techie said, taking another bite. The first bite was as lovely as the previous, the sweetness underlined by a sharp tartness.

They lapsed into silence, focused on finishing the tray Matt had brought. Techie was finished quickly, not a particularly heavy eater, and had licked his fingers clean of the sticky juices swiftly. He sat back and watched Matt continue to nibble at a crab apple.

The only thing Techie could immediately see that was strikingly different about Matt compared to his brother was the colour of Matt’s hair - a lovely straw blond colour as opposed to his brothers much darker almost black brown tresses. It was slightly strange to see the colour on a Northumbrian, their hair tending to fall more commonly under brown tones. The colour had been so common back home. Matt’s blonde hair certainly made his stand out.

“What?” Matt asked, his mouth still full of apple. He was looking now at Techie, having clearly caught him staring. There was a tentative smile on his lips and a furrow in his brow.

“Your hair is such a lovely shade,” Techie remarked, “It reminds me of home. May I touch it?”

Matt hesitated for a moment. “Sure,” he said tentatively, “Though can I know why?”

“Being able to touch something helps me to see. I can see colour, but I have difficulty making out shapes.” Techie said, pointing to his eyes. He knew the scars around them were faded and difficult to see, but when drawn attention to people usually noticed them and got the idea.

Matt said nothing in response, only nodded understandingly and learned towards him. Techie reached forward in response, winding his fingers into Matt’s hair. It felt wiry and strange. Techie was used to the soft, fine texture of his brother’s hair and Matt’s hair felt thick and coarse. The fibres tickled Techie’s skin and he found himself twitching at the sensation.  

There must have been some confusion etched onto Techie’s face because Matt turned bright scarlet. “It’s, uh, it’s not my real hair.”

Techie’s head tilted in confusion. “What?”  

Matt cleared his throat. “It’s a wig,” he said, “Like the Roman’s used to wear.”

“Oh,” Techie replied, feeling his own cheeks take on a rosy tint, “Why?”

Matt blinked in confusion. “Why, what?”

“Why do you wear a wig?”

Matt shrugged, the movement half-hearted. “It helps people tell Kylo and I apart.”

Techie nodded, understanding. He’d heard his brother comment on how similar Prince Kylo and Matt looked before and even without the finer details perfect eyesight would have allowed him he could certainly see the base idea of what people were talking about.

“Can I see your real hair?” Techie asked, now consumed with curiosity.

Matt nodded and pulled at the front of his wig, allowing it to fall onto the bed where it lay like a tiny hairy creature. Under the wig Matt’s hair was much darker; a medium brown tone instead of the stark blond the wig was - though it was still in a short style, the curls pressed flat against his head. This colour was a far closer colour to Prince Kylo’s and was near uncanny to the colour of Queen’s Leia’s own hair.

Matt shifted uncomfortably on the bed, seeming to wither under Techie’s gaze. He picked up the wig from the bed and placed it back onto his head, seeming far more comfortable with it on.

“Do you not like your colour?” Techie asked, placing his hand onto Matt’s knee. Matt glanced down at it quickly before returning his eyes to Techie.

“I’ve always thought blond suited me better,” Matt confessed, “Brown is my brother’s colour.”

Techie leaned back, a low hum rumbling from his chest. “People back home used to bleach their hair blond,” Techie said, “If you’d like I could do the same to yours?”

“What, change my hair colour?”

Techie nodded, “I could do it now if you’d like,” he said, “I have what I need to do so.”

Matt’s mouth hung open for some time, gaping like a fish. “I- Of course.”

Techie smiled brightly back. “Stay right here,” he commanded, jumping from the bed and bounding over to the dresser table.

Techie opened the top draw, searching for the soap he was after. He pushed past the first few bars, knowing their lye content wasn’t going to be high enough to actually change Matt’s hair colour. He reached deep into the draw and pulled out a bar with a circle carved into the centre of it. This would be enough, he could smell it.

He grabbed the basin of water he kept on the dresser and carried it back over to the bed, balancing it very carefully. He placed the bowl on the nightstand while he clamoured back onto the bed.

“Could you sit on the floor with your back to me?” Techie asked, motioning for Matt to sit close to the edge of the bed. It would be easier to reach his head this way.

Matt nodded jerkily and swung down onto the floor. Techie hummed approvingly as he sat behind him. Matt took off his wig, placing it delicately beside him and waited, stock-still. He flinched at Techie’s wet hands threading through his hair, thoroughly dampening his hair. Techie’s fingers occasionally caught on a pesky knot but Matt didn’t seem to mind.

Techie took longer than was perhaps truly necessary to comb the water through Matt’s hair with his fingers, watching Matt’s shoulders begin to sag with released tension. Techie ran his hands along the soap bar, coating his hands in the oily substance, the wetness already present on his fingers allowing the bar to dissolve in his hands.

Techie began to work the soap into Matt’s hair, rubbing his fingers in slow circles against Matt’s scalp. He heard Matt sigh, the sound heavy and pleased. Matt pressed his head back slightly, leaning into the pressure Techie was placing on his head. Techie felt himself begin to smile. Matt was like putty in his hands.

It took some time to coat the strands in the soapy mixture and it took even longer to wait for the lye to take effect. It must have been hours of comfortable silence later when Techie finally instructed Matt to tilt his head back so that Techie could wash the soap from his hair. Matt was breathing deeply through his nose, his breaths slow and relaxed. His eyes were drooped low, dangerously close to closing.

“Matt.”

“Mmm?” Matt hummed, his voice heavy and distant.

Techie let out a short laugh. “Don’t fall asleep on me!”

“’m not,” Matt slurred, very clearly still close to falling asleep.

Techie washed his hands off in the basin and dried them on his tunic. Matt had his head tilted back, his neck craned so that he could look at Techie. Techie was sure this wasn’t exactly his most flattering angle, though Matt still seemed to be smiling, the expression dopey and unhindered.

Techie looked over his handiwork. Matt’s hair was definitely lighter, a brassy light brown tone now. It wasn’t exactly the same as the colour he’d walked in with but it was the best Techie was going to be able to do today.

“There,” Techie declared, “All done. It won’t be a very drastic change right now but I can give you the bar and if you reapply it every day your hair will eventually be the colour you want.”

Matt gave a lop-sided smile, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Or I could come back to you?”

Techie barked a laugh. “Or you could come back to me.”

“Really?” Matt exclaimed, spinning to face Techie, “You’d do this for me again?”

“Of course I would.”

Matt’s smile threatened to grow off his face and fly away it was so wide. He rose to his feet and began to look towards the door, though he didn’t seem to want to leave. “Tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow,” Techie replied, a warmth spreading through his chest as he watched Matt exist his quarters.

He would be counting down every second.

**Author's Note:**

> I am on Tumblr as stardestroyervigilance here


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